


Beautiful Stranger

by trancer



Category: Ethan Hunt/, La Femme Nikita, Mission: Impossible (1996 2000 2006)
Genre: Coercion, Crossover, M/M, Plot What Plot, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-05-12
Updated: 2001-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Mission Impossible/La Femme Nikita crossover. Michael has something Ethan wants, and Ethan will do <i>anything</i> to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Stranger

The fight had gone longer than Ethan expected. He’d underestimated his opponent. The lithe man was faster and stronger than Ethan calculated, evidenced by the bruises forming across his body. But, Ethan out fought the man. Barely. He struck a blow to the back of his head sending the man sprawling unconscious on the floor.

He’d seen the man at the party. A benefit thrown by a Consul of some country Ethan barely bothered to remember. He wasn’t sure what caught his eye first. The expensive Armani suit. The soft brown hair that fell off his head in waves, stylishly pulled behind his ears.

The guy had Agency written all over him. Ethan could see it in the way he walked. The nonchalant coolness in his steps. Yet, his eyes betrayed his secret. They were the eyes of a hunter, scanning, searching, seeking. The eyes of an agent. But which Agency?

Ethan was at the party to find a disc. One that held more secrets than one man should be in possession of. Ethan coolly made his way from the main chamber to an off the way office. Within seconds, he was in the room and stealing the valuable merchandise. Within seconds, the man was in the room as well. And the chase was on.

Ethan escaped through a window, rappelled with lightening quickness to the street ten floors below. He hopped on a motorcycle and sped away into the night. Ethan didn’t have to look behind him to know the man was on his tail. He could feel it. Like the rabbit feels the fox. Ethan knew when he was being hunted.

Time stretched as Ethan led the man through a labyrinthine course on the streets of Paris. Tension turned to anger. Ethan couldn’t shake the guy and that pissed him off more than anything.

He led the man to the docks, parking his bike in one of the many warehouses. Seconds later, the man joined him inside. A fight ensued. Ethan would love to think his skill allowed him to defeat the stranger. He knew, otherwise, it was luck. Pure and simple.

Ethan set the man on his knees in front of a pole, arms and legs tied together around the pole, and behind the man’s back. The man’s head lolled back and forth, his hair hanging loosely in front of his face. Ethan kneeled in front of him, inspecting his face. He placed his hand on the man’s face, gently lifting it up.

Ethan let out a soft snort, a half smile on his lips. The man appeared to be sleeping soundly, regardless of the restraints. He didn’t have the soft tense appearance of earlier. Just the face of a man sleeping. Ethan remembered something someone once told him. To see the true face of a man is to see him when he’s sleeping.

This man, without the tension, appeared much different. There was a softness in his features, something, Ethan remembered that had caused Ethan to search his face out in the beginning.

He set the man’s head against the post. Relaxed, his face tilted a fraction to the left and upward, the man’s mouth opened slightly. Ethan brought a hand to the mouth. A finger lightly traced the outline of the man’s lips. Felt warm breath exhaled softly onto his finger. Ethan thought about how beautiful that mouth looked, suddenly filled with thoughts of all the things he’d like to do with it.

The man poked his tongue out, licking his lips. Ethan didn’t remove his finger, left it there on the man’s lips. A shiver of electricity ran down his spine as he felt the warm velvety texture across his finger. Ethan slid his finger into the man’s mouth, running the tip across the man’s tongue.

The man closed his lips on Ethan’s finger. Entranced, Ethan watched his finger, suckled by the soft lips and warm tongue. The action sent a flood of heat straight to Ethan’s crotch. Ethan placed his free hand between his legs. Unable to keep from applying pressure, he rubbed the throbbing member under his slacks.

The man moaned softly. The sound snapped Ethan from his reverie. Standing slowly, Ethan shook his head, forcing away the desire fogging his brain. Ethan stepped back as the man groggily opened his eyes. Blue eyes, foggy from unconsciousness, snapped aware with crystal-clear clarity.

“Who are you?” Ethan asked calmly.

The man said nothing. Ethan repeated the question, receiving the same non-answer.

He walked over to his knapsack, pulling out a small black box. Aware of the man’s eyes on him, Ethan prepped a syringe in full view of his audience. He walked back over to his captive. The syringe brandished in the light for effect.

“Do you know what this is?” Ethan pressed the plunger slightly, a stream of fluid squirted into the air. “I’m going to ask you one more time. What is your name?”

The man clamped his mouth shut forming a slight grimace. Ethan decided he didn’t like the grimace on the man’s mouth. Sure, he found it cute. But not as cute as the mouth that sucked his finger earlier.

Ethan sighed. He was going to have to do this the hard way. He crossed the distance between them. The man pulled at his restraints, to no avail. Ethan pulled up the man’s sleeve, pushed the needle into his skin and pressed the plunger.

The drug acted quickly, tearing down the man’s resolve within minutes. Ethan waited and watched. Satisfied the drug had taken effect, he spoke.

“What is your name?”

“Michael,” slurred off his tongue in a soft French accent.

“Ah, bonjour,” Ethan sat on his knees in front of Michael. “Who are you working for Michael?”

Michael fought to maintain the trickle of lucidity seeping through his brain.

“Who are you working for?”

“I work for myself.”

“Really?” Ethan cocked a questioning eyebrow. “Then you’d know anyone who tried to sell or use that disc would be dead within hours.”

“Anyone except you, eh?”

Ethan smiled. He’d injected Michael with just a fraction of what would make him spill his guts. He just wanted to loosen the man up, make him confess on Ethan’s terms, not the drug’s.

“Who are you working for?” Ethan placed a hand on Michael’s neck. He could feel Michael tense under his fingers, felt Michael’s artery pulse under his fingers.

“If you’re going to kill me, then kill me. I won’t be frightened into confessing.”

Ethan leaned in close. He pressed his mouth next to Michael’s ear. Michael smelled of cologne, soap and shampoo, with just the lightest tinge of sweat.

“I’m not going to kill you, Michael,” he placed both hands on Michael’s shirt. In one fluid motion, Ethan ripped the shirt open. The buttons skittered across the floor. “I’m going to make you confess.”

Michael’s chest was smooth. The lightest peppering of hair formed a trail that snaked down the middle, disappearing under the waistline of his pants. Ethan ran a hand across Michael’s chest. Faces inches apart, their eyes locked. The breath flowed over Ethan’s lips in jagged and heavy puffs. Michael returned his gaze, a flicker of heat in his eyes.

Ethan brought his fingers over one of Michael’s nipples. He caressed it, toyed with it. Could feel Michael shifting uncomfortably under his touch. Could feel the desire stiffening the man’s nipple. See the slight flush painting his cheeks.

“Is this supposed to be torture?” Michael tried to maintain his sense of bravado. “Or are you going to fuck the truth out of me.”

“Yes and yes,” Ethan squeezed the nipple between his fingers. Michael hissed loudly. Ethan pressed his mouth against Michael’s. Hard and sloppily. His tongue slid between Michael’s lips. Michael returned the kiss, opening his mouth to Ethan. Their tongues dueled in a dance of heat, each trying to claim dominance over the other.

Ethan took the hand on Michael’s chest and trailed lower. He cupped Michael’s crotch, squeezing hard. He groped the hard flesh he felt under Michael’s slacks.

The kiss broke. Both pulled up for air, gasping and panting on the other’s face. Ethan could feel the desire pumping through his veins, heard it in the blood pounding against his eardrums. He brought his hand back up to Michael’s face. His fingers, once again, tracing those beautiful lips.

Michael licked Ethan’s fingers, eliciting a soft groan from his captor. Index and middle finger slid into Michael’s mouth. Ethan slowly pumped his fingers. Watched them disappear then reappear, slick and wet with Michael’s spit. The process repeated over and over again.

“Who..who are you working for?” Ethan whispered huskily.

“Jesus, is that all you can think about?” Michael asked, then flicked his tongue across the skin between the two fingers probing his mouth.

“No, it’s not,” Ethan rose onto his feet. His crotch just inches above Michael’s face, and just as close. He watched Michael, watched him as Ethan undid his belt. Michael’s blue eyes glued to his crotch. He felt a shiver as Michael’s tongue barely licked the corner of his mouth, a lick of pure anticipation.

Ethan felt a quiver in his groin, his hand wrapping around his member. He pulled it out of his slacks, unable to resist stroking it. If the display was for him or Michael, Ethan wasn’t sure and really didn’t care.

He stepped forward. The tip of his cock a millimeter from Michael’s lips. He thought about warning the man, making sure he didn’t have any ideas like biting Ethan. Michael answered for him with a slow lick of his tongue across the surface of Ethan’s cock head.

Ethan gasped slightly, the warm wetness on him caused his head to spin. Had it really been that long? It felt like an eternity since the last time he’d felt this way. He grasped his shaft, pressing his cock head onto Michael’s lips, he traced the outline with his tip. Michael’s lips now wet and shiny with Ethan’s precum.

They worked in unison, Ethan slowly pushing his hips forward. Michael sucked the member into his mouth. Ethan would have to do all the work, Michael’s restraints prevented him from doing anything but sucking. That was just fine with Ethan. He thrust his hips faster, finding his rhythm. Michael provided the rest. His mouth felt wonderful on Ethan’s cock, warm and wet. Michael’s lips wrapped so tight around his shaft, he could feel Michael’s teeth rubbing against him.

Ethan placed a hand on Michael’s head. One purpose was to steady his legs. His bones slowly melting into liquid. The other was to keep Michael’s beautiful mouth clamped onto his cock.

He pumped faster. His hand slid to the back of Michael’s head, preventing Ethan from pounding the man’s skull on the thick metal pipe. Sounds filled his ears, his moaning, Michael sucking, the wet sound of his balls slapping Michael’s chin. All pushed him onward, faster, harder, deeper into Michael’s mouth.

The fiery snake coiled tightly in his belly sending waves of heat through out his body. The tension tightened, twisted and turned, sending him to the only place left to go. Ethan threw back his head, grunting loudly as he came. He thrusted one final time, plunging his cock as deep into Michael’s mouth as it would go.

The strength gone from his legs, Ethan collapsed onto his knees. He languidly brought his head up, Michael’s blue eyes piercing into his own. His lips were wet, slightly red from Ethan’s torture technique. Ethan brought their mouths together again. He tasted his seed, mixed with Michael’s spit, on his tongue. It was intoxicating. The way Michael opened to him. Accepted his mouth, his cock, his seed. It didn’t matter, Ethan was willing to give, and Michael willing to receive.

Ethan’s hands found their way to Michael’s crotch. He groped as they kissed, pulled, tugged, torn Michael’s pants open. Ethan felt the moan on his mouth. His fingers taking capture of Michael’s cock. He kissed Michael gruffly, in the same manner as he stroked Michael’s cock. Hard and fast, Ethan pumped his hand around the hard shaft, precum wetting his fingers, providing ample lubricant.

The orgasm rippled through Michael’s body. Ethan felt the culmination on his hand, warm and wet, sticking to his fingers as he continued to stroke. His task completed, Ethan pulled away from Michael. His captive leaned his head against the pole, mouth open, panting heavily. Ethan took his wettened hand and wiped the cum onto Michael’s bare chest.

“I suppose if I asked you who you’re working for, you wouldn’t answer me?”

“I guess,” Michael smiled. “You’ll just have to torture me again.”

Ethan blinked, breaking the eye contact. As much as he wanted to stay, they both knew he couldn’t. He stood onto his feet. Ethan walked over to his knapsack and pulled a switchblade from the pocket.

Michael tensed slightly as Ethan approached him. For a moment Ethan stood there. His eyes poured over Michael’s body, taking in the vision of his prey. Then, he walked behind Michael, lowering the knife to cut the restraints. Two quick slices and his prisoner was free. Michael brought his wrists in front of him, rubbing the circulation back into his hands.

Ethan walked back to his motorcycle, Michael’s eyes on him like a hawk.

“Tell your people, whoever they are,” Ethan smiled as he put on his helmet. “The disk is good as destroyed.”

Michael made his way to his feet. “Just so you know, the next time we meet, it will be me doing the torturing.”

“I look forward to it,” Ethan smiled one last time. He gunned the engine to his bike, leaving Michael alone.

That is, until the next meeting.

The End


End file.
